Someone Like Me
by Jacinda
Summary: What if someone like me could like someone like you. A short stand alone. NS pairing.


"Why do you think that nut thought we were married?" Sara asked as we walked back out to my SUV. She sounded offended, but Sara could be pretty easy to offend.

"I have no idea," I replied, "You're bossy. That's probably why he thought you were my wife."

"I'm not bossy. I just don't play the games that other people do," Sara replied as she slid into the passenger seat. She pulled on a pair of sunglasses and squirmed to get comfortable in the seat.

"Sara, you're bossy," I replied as I put the keys in the ignition and started the SUV, "Are we going back to the lab to start looking at the trace evidence?"

"If it's going to make me 'bossy,' I'm not going to answer that question," Sara quipped. I wasn't exactly sure if her feelings were hurt, or if she was just being difficult.

"Sara, I'm asking you to tell me what to do," I replied. I began to drive toward the lab.

"Nick, would you ever marry someone like me?" Sara asked. Her question had taken me by surprise. Sure, I'd admit to flirting with Sara. It was almost a competition. Sara was fun to be around when she let her guard down. We would often go out to breakfast together. Occasionally, we would go out for drinks after really bad cases. I had watched this behavior spiral out of control. I asked her to tell Grissom about her drinking problem, but Sara claimed that it wasn't a problem. Sara asked Brass to call me the night she was pulled over, but Brass said that he needed to speak with her supervisor. Sara called me that night; she begged me to help her. I came over and cleaned out all the alcohol from her apartment. I never asked her why; I didn't feel like it was my place to push her to talk.

"Why are you asking?" I replied.

"After I found out about Hank and his . . . his other women, Hank said that men don't marry women like me. He told me that my best asset was my body; he said my personality was severely lacking. I thought about that the other day during therapy. The wedding chapel made me think about it again," Sara replied.

"Sara, you are a lot more than your body," I replied. I couldn't imagine someone saying that to another person; especially a person you were supposed to care for.

"You don't have to say that to make me feel better," Sara replied as she looked out the window.

"I'll tell you when I'm lying. How is everything going?" I asked.

"I'm thinking about looking for another job," Sara replied.

"Leaving Las Vegas?" I asked.

"I think I got myself into a bad position here . . . you know, with Grissom and stuff," Sara replied.

"You shouldn't leave just because of Grissom," I replied. I was glad that the traffic was thick. I was happy to be stuck in the car with Sara. It wasn't often that Sara would talk about something other than work.

"Nick, my relationship with Grissom is the polar opposite of yours. He doesn't respect me . . . I put everything out on the line to have a chance to be something more to him. He didn't only reject me, but he's been punishing me for it for years," Sara ranted. She was beautiful when she was angry. The way she furrowed her brow . . . the intensity in her brown eyes.

"What about your friends?" I asked.

"Nick . . . I didn't exactly make oodles of friends here," Sara replied . . . she began to tap her fingernail on the window. I knew that she hated to be caught in traffic.

"You can't go," I replied without thinking. I tried to think of a compelling reason why she should stay . . . you can't go because I've had a crush on you for four years; I've just been to shy to let you in on that. I think I first realized that I wanted Sara to be more than my friend was the day that we found the body stuffed in a bag in the middle of the desert. The smell nauseated Sara; she had been ill several times just from the stench. I want to make her feel better. It was as simple as that . . . I wanted to make her feel better. I spent two years trying to make Sara feel better; two weeks ago was the first time that she did let me help her.

"Why can't I go?" Sara replied as she looked at the tourists all walking up and down the street of the biggest money pit in the world.

"You still owe me breakfast," I replied.

"Well, I'll make sure to collect before I leave," Sara replied with a small laugh and a smile.

"That's not what I meant to say," I replied. I knew that I was blushing. I could feel the red heat across my face, "Have you found another job?"

"What were you going to say?" Sara asked . . . she completely ignored my question.

"Never mind," I replied quickly, "Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"What were you going to say?" Sara replied. She took her sunglasses off. She was serious now.

"I was going to say that maybe someone like me could like someone like you," I replied nervously. I wondered if that would be enough to keep her in Vegas.

"Maybe, we'll have to see," Sara replied as she put her sunglasses back on. She was smiling now. I didn't notice, but she was holding my hand. Maybe someone like Sara could like someone like me too.


End file.
